I'm a Lover Not a Fighter, But I Will Fight for What I Love
by Cassodembreankia
Summary: Michael is the oldest angel in existence. Logically there has to be a youngest somewhere. Enter Azariah: the baby of the celestial family. Trained and loved by the legendary Castiel, she's a powerful soldier with a tough exterior and a heart of gold. But don't mess with her unless you want to be strangled by your own intestines. (T for violence, no slash/pairings, S5&6spoilers)
1. Chapter 1

Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Castiel were standing over the grave, staring at the smoldering ashes. Large drops of warm summer rain plunked against their skin and the ground.

_Wham!_

The demon smashed into Sam before anyone could react. Five others quickly followed. Apparently, they were smarter than most, because the first thing they tried to accomplish was tying Castiel's hands together before he could smite them. He was pinned down by three demons while the other two took on Dean and Bobby. Sam was already deep in combat with the first assaulter. He was trying to shout an exorcism, but obviously it wasn't going very well.

It took only moments for Dean's eye to develop a bruise, and for Bobby's lip to split. Sam's face was covered in blood. Castiel was stronger than just about every demon, but three at once weren't easy. He was trying to tell the others to shut their eyes so he could burn the demons with his heavenly presence, but his "opponents" were making it difficult for him to speak, trying to shove cloth into his mouth.

A chrome _something_ flashed over the lead demon's skin, and blood oozed from the cut. A small, delicate hand grabbed the gnarly forehead. In a bright flash of light, the demon that had been attacking Sam crumpled to the ground. The younger Winchester sank to his knees in exhaustion.

There came a lot of skin-on-skin noises as a small girl with a long brown braid—who couldn't have been more than five-foot-two—attacked the demons on Castiel. She took all three on at once. Expertly subduing and smiting them, they all ended on the ground. A whirl of her braid and she was on top of Bobby's demon—as she assumed Dean could take care of his pretty well until she managed to get to it—and smashing him into the soft earth of the cemetery. Castiel watched her with his eyebrows contracted, like he was confused. She was fierce and almost brutal; but most of all swift. One arm locked Dean's demon in a headlock and the other hand grabbed the forehead. One last flash of light, and the last demon crumpled to the ground in a dead heap.

The girl's eyes were a disturbingly pale gray. She twisted one last time and knelt next to Castiel. A flash of the silver stiletto of a blade that had disappeared into her sleeve and the bonds on his hands were lying on the ground, limp as the demon bodies around them. She stood and offered the trench-coated angel her hand. Castiel took it and allowed her to help him up.

A flash of lightning from the incoming storm showed a brief shadow of her wings lashing the air triumphantly.

Castiel wrapped his arms around the girl's shoulders, hugging her. Dean cocked his head in confusion. The blue-eyed angel wasn't exactly Huggy Bear. He was even more confused when Castiel planted a kiss in the brown hair. "You're not as I remember you Azariah," he remarked, holding her at arm's length to examine her. The gray-eyed angel smirked almost sadly.

"I grew up," she replied. Her voice was desolate.

Castiel smiled sadly. "You promised me you would never grow up," he said.

"Didn't have a choice after the only friend I had—after the _only_ angel I looked up to and was kind to me—rebelled and got himself cast out. And I don't blame you for it. I know why you did it. But a little warning would have been nice. So I could have braced to spend the next year all alone."

"I am sorry," Castiel murmured. He sounded genuinely like he meant it.

"Okay. Sorry to break up this happy little reunion, but what in Hades is going on?" Bobby demanded. Castiel turned and wrapped one arm around "Azariah's" shoulders.

"Sam, Dean, Bobby, this is Azariah. She's the youngest angel in the host. She was in my garrison. Azariah, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, and Bobby Singer. They're the friends I—"

"I know why you rebelled, Cas. And it all makes sense to me now. It's okay." She gave him a hug.

"Why does she have emotions?" Dean whispered to Sam. The younger Winchester shrugged.

"She's the youngest?" Sam suggested. "She's… a girl?"

"We need to get out of here, it's not safe," said girl was telling Castiel and Bobby right as the Winchester brothers tuned back into the conversation. "And then I need a quick word with my brother—alone." Castiel shrugged and in a moment they were all back in Bobby's living room. Dean instantly went to the fridge and pulled out a couple of brown bottles. Castiel looked down at Azariah's Vessel out of the corner of his eye. She was small. Nothing higher than five-two.

"Should we go somewhere else to talk?" the older angel asked. Azariah nodded briefly.

* * *

The wheat field was several miles away from Bobby's home in South Dakota, and remote enough that no one would—hopefully—hear them. "What do you want to speak with me about?" Castiel asked. Azariah took a deep, cleansing breath and sighed heavily.

"I want to tell you what happened after you left."

"O… 'kay?"

Azariah's hands curled into fists. "Do you know how many times I considered rebelling just so I would be cast out and not have to be alone anymore?" she ground out through clenched teeth. Castiel's hand prepped to let his blade fall into it should his baby sister turn violent. She had amazing control over her own wrath, but he had seen her fight. Heavens, he had _taught_ her how to fight. He had trained her. And by her show only minutes ago, he had done his job well.

Still, her statement confused him. "You would be even more alone here on Earth without the entire host to look after you," he pointed out.

Gray eyes rolled sarcastically. "The entire host doesn't care about me. The only angel that ever showed me any kindness was _you_. And suddenly you ripped yourself out of my life, and I was left completely on my own."

"I've told you I'm sorry."

"And I've told you I forgive you, and I have. But I'm not finished yet."

"Alright. Go on."

"The first few weeks were normal. Nothing happened. It was like you had never left. Even though the Apocalypse was starting, it was like the past four or five thousand years. I know you're a lot older than me, but it was like nothing had changed. As the end of Earth began to pick up momentum, things started getting worse. Orders started flying, but none of them were for me. The _entire host_ forgot I was even there. They forgot a _garrison captain_ trained me and I knew how to handle what was going on. As Michael started getting angrier and angrier at Dean's persistent refusal, the host started getting agitated. Myself included. But I was forgotten. Shoved into the corner. At some point I was stepped on when I tripped. Broke my wing."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. You should have contacted me."

"I couldn't. You were _cast out_. I couldn't find you. Or the Winchesters."

"That one's my fault. I hid them from all angels with an Enochian sigil carved into their ribs," Castiel offered. Azariah shrugged. The older angel saw a shadow of her wings whispering through the air. Unlike his—which were broad and powerful—hers were slimmer. Made for speed.

"I kind of figured that out when not even _Michael_ could find them." She smiled. "But, Cas. I was so alone. So rejected. I had no one. I was ignored—and even when I _was_ acknowledged it was with an angry scowl and a dark glare. Because I'm the baby of the family and always get in the way—in their eyes." Her voice was bitter and angry, but her emotions were still in check.

"I still don't understand why you wanted to rebel."

"Because then I wouldn't be alone, Castiel!"

"You would be more alone on Earth than you would have been in Heaven," he pointed out, _again_. And again Azariah rolled her Vessel's gray eyes.

_"I_ _would have been with you_," she pressed. "I'd rather be on Earth, a reject with a friend and brother, than be accepted in Heaven with the entire host, and absolutely no one at the same time." Her eyes were glistening with sincerity. "I would have been with you Castiel."

"You know that _almost_ sounds romantic?" a new voice remarked. Azariah whirled around to see Dean picking his way through the swaying wheat.

"What are you doing here?" Azariah demanded.

"Well, I wasn't _planning_ on listening," the older Winchester remarked. "I _was_ looking for a box Bobby said he stored out here, but I heard you guys talking and figured I'd come say hi." He gave her a charming smile her eyes narrowed dangerously at. He took the hint from the gleam of violence in those narrowed gray pools. "But you two obviously aren't done, so I'm just gonna go over… that way." He pointed to his left with his right hand and tromped off through the grain.

"If you were so horribly treated… why _did_ you stay?" Castiel asked.

"Duty? Obligation? Maybe I was hoping you'd be accepted back into the ranks and everything could go back to the way it was. I don't know. Pick one." She shrugged. "But I was about two ticks away from getting myself thrown out when you… you know… exploded." Castiel pulled her close and kissed her hair softly, as if it could make her pain from the past year vanish.

"But I was put back together again," he reminded her.

"I know. And you have no idea how grateful I am for that." He thought he felt two hot tears soak through his shirt, but angels didn't cry. And Azariah had made it her goal in life to never cry. But when she pulled away from his hug, there were salt tracks on her face. He brushed at one.

"I thought you were never going to cry," he said. She smiled through the tears.

"You have no idea at how relieved I am to have my brother back," she murmured, burying her head back into his chest.

"We probably ought to get back to the others," Castiel pointed out after simply holding her for several long moments that he didn't quite want to end. Azariah nodded, her cheekbone rubbing against him. She was definitely the youngest of the host. But she had more emotion than any of them, and what could be considered attachment issues. Castiel had often considered her best quality to be her unfailing loyalty. No wonder she'd stayed with the others when she wanted so desperately to join him.

"Okay."

Castiel touched her cheek, erasing the salt stains. With a flutter of wings, they were standing behind Bobby's desk.

"Hello Sam," Castiel greeted. "Dean still in the field?"

"How did you know that's where he was?" Bobby asked from the fridge.

"He happened upon us whilst we were talking," Azariah put in.

* * *

**End Note: Hello! This story is a setup, based in a slightly AU season 6, for a SuperWhoLock fic I'm writing, and I needed to introduce a major character. I hope you like it. This chapter is a little longer than most of the others will be.**

**On another note: Castiel was so dark in Season 6 and sad that I wanted to give him a little light. That's where Azariah (as-are-eye-uh) comes from. I don't have an older brother myself, but I always think it's cute when the older brother is portrayed as being protective of their younger sister. I think it's freaking adorable. And I think Castiel is freaking adorable, so it worked perfectly! Feel free to tell me what you thought, but try to be nice - I've never done a Supernatural fic before!**

**THANKS!**

**~Cass**


	2. Chapter 2

Dean burst in right as the clouds broke and poured rain down on South Dakota. Azariah was staring pensively out the window with Castiel right next to her. Bobby was—apparently—upstairs. Sam was down in the panic room looking for a book. As Dean set the dusty box on Bobby's desk, he noticed how close Castiel and Azariah were standing and how they didn't even seem to notice. "Do all angels have the same disregard for personal space?" he asked sarcastically.

"Beg your pardon?" Castiel asked, not quite hearing what Dean said.

"_Do all angels share the same disregard for personal space_?" the older Winchester repeated louder, with more force behind his voice. Azariah glanced up at Castiel. They were literally about an inch from bumping into each other. She shrugged.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "Do we?" Her question was directed at her older brother.

"I think in the human perspective we do," Castiel decided.

"Is that a bad thing?" Frighteningly gray eyes gazed up levelly, completely genuinely curious if she was doing something terrible.

Castiel shook his head. "Not really. Humans just become uncomfortable if we stand this close to them."

"Then humans are confusing," Azariah muttered. Castiel smirked.

"Hey!" Sam said, coming from the door to the basement. "Found it. It _was_ a Woman in White."

Dean sighed and plopped down on one of the faded old armchairs. "We haven't dealt with a Woman in White in… _years_. Not since—" Abruptly he stopped speaking. Sam finished the sentence silently. _Not since we went chasing Dad._ The angels glanced at each other and said nothing. They both knew what the Winchesters were talking about, and knowing all about family issues elected to let them handle it without their assistance.

"Yeah," Sam agreed quietly.

Bobby came thumping down the stairs with a shotgun in his hand. Azariah's eyebrows arched slightly, but she kept her lips pressed together and went back to looking out at the storm outside as it turned from a rain storm to a lightning storm. "Aren't electrical storms demonic omens?" she asked Castiel quietly. He nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Indeed they are," the older angel answered. "But perhaps this is a simple gimmick of the weather, or Raphael throwing a tantrum."

Azariah snorted into her hand at the joke made at the Archangel's expense. He would _kill_ Castiel for that jibe if he ever heard about it. But she thought it was funny. She almost hoped it _was_ demonic omens, because demons she could fight. She'd been there in Hades when Castiel and his garrison laid siege to break Dean out. She'd been right by his side, watching his back. In the end her wing was caught by a demon that held her in a headlock and her older brother dragged the Winchester out on his own, but they had fought through the entire underworld together. He'd taught her everything he knew and made it everything she knew. Demons she could fight. If the storm was an angel getting angry, she was a little more concerned. "I'd rather it be demons," she decided.

"As would I," Castiel agreed.

* * *

Castiel had gone with the Winchesters and Bobby to track down the nearby Woman in White about an hour before. He didn't enjoy riding in the Impala, but he went with them anyway. They had left Azariah behind—at her insistence—to watch the house. She was seated calmly on the roof, occasionally popping back inside to make sure there were no demons or ghosts. She didn't mind the rain dripping through her hair. She enjoyed watching the fog roll over the Black Hills, generated from the summer heat and the chilly rain.

Azariah pondered as she sat there. About everything that had happened. Civil war was mounting in Heaven, and Castiel was taking the lead. She knew that. That was just the way he was. There were no words to describe how good she felt when he was put back together, but ever since, he wasn't quite the same. His reaction to seeing her again was exactly as she'd pictured, but there was still something off. And she had a guess as to what it was. His year on Earth after being cast out had changed him. He was darker. And quite frankly it scared her.

After two hours of sitting on the roof in the rain, Azariah decided to strike up a conversation with her Vessel's consciousness. "Hello Rachel. How are you holding up?"

_This is really weird,_ the same voice replied, but silently.

The two talked for a long time. About Rachel's roommate back in New York named Quincy, about Castiel's darker attitude, and whatever else came to mind until Azariah saw the Impala turn into the Auto yard. She said goodbye to Rachel and teleported down there.

Castiel was standing outside the car as Dean, Sam, and Bobby opened the doors. Azariah put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "Hello," he greeted.

"How'd it go?" she asked.

"Long and boring."

Azariah laughed before pulling back and looking into his eyes. There was something sad in them. Their deep ocean blue held the spark of divinity all angels could see in occupied Vessels, but there was sorrow there too. "What's wrong?" she murmured as the other three started taking stuff inside—including a shotgun covered in dried blood.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he replied, trying at a smile.

"You've always been a terrible liar," Azariah said as they teleported inside.

"Really, Azariah. Nothing is wrong."

"Did you hear me talking to Rachel?"

"Rachel?"

"My Vessel. Her name is Rachel. I was talking to her consciousness while I was waiting for you guys to come back," Azariah explained.

"No. I didn't hear you talking to her."

Azariah sighed. "I can't order you around. You're my superior, even though you were cast out. But you are _awful_ at lying. _Please,_ Castiel. Just tell me the truth. I can see something's wrong in your eyes. You look sad." The pleading in her eyes made the hard shell of Castiel's face soften.

"You think I seem darker since the war started," he stated.

"So you did hear me. I thought so."

"Am I disappointing you?" Castiel asked.

"I didn't say that," Azariah said, almost snappy. "I'm not disappointed. I'm utterly indifferent. It was just an observation. You just looked hurt. Am _I_ disappointing you?"

"No."

"What are you two talking about?" Dean asked, coming back in the door after getting some more stuff from the Impala.

"Nothing," the angels both hastily replied. Castiel almost looked guilty and Azariah looked protective. Dean knew that if they didn't want to share, they wouldn't. They'd just disappear and not show up again for several weeks until he or Sam called and asked for help. Rain smashed against the window as he shrugged and set his gun down on the table. Lightning split the sky and thunder rumbled deeply. Azariah looked out the window with a note of apprehensiveness on her face.

* * *

**End Note: There might be one or two inconsistencies with later chapters from these earlier ones, and if you catch one make sure to tell me and I'll get around to fixing it (also, check out my other story QBR to meet Rachel's roommate Quincy).**

**Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! If you liked it, loved it, hated it, don't like Azariah (she is NOT exactly a Mary Sue because she's not being paired with anyone), please leave a review. This story is dealing with a couple experiments of mine (i.e. writing violence [I'm rubbish at it] and seeing how close two characters can be - emotionally not physically) There will be no slash in this story, or pairings. But I hope you liked it.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This is another slightly longer chapter than I usually post. And these first three chapters are up a lot faster than I usually post, because I want to ****_really_**** get this story going quickly. I'll probably go back to my usual weekly updates (That I mostly do for my Avengers fic Under a Violet Sky 2) after chapter 4 or something. But I hope you're enjoying! Thanks to everyone who followed/faved/reviewed. You're all awesome!**

* * *

"Human existence is boring and confining," Azariah decided as she went from staring out the window to pacing the ground floor of the house. Castiel remained where he was and followed her heated progress with his level eyes. Dean, Sam, and Bobby were in the kitchen eating. Azariah blew right past them and kept moving. Dean had his eyebrows skeptically near his hairline.

"You're not human," Castiel reminded her. "You're an angel in a Vessel."

"My Vessel is a good human, but she's so _short_. I can't reach _anything_."

"You've crammed a being the height of a high-rise into that small little body," Sam remarked. Azariah shot him a sharp glance as she strode past with her arms folded. "Just saying, that's pretty impressive."

The younger angel ignored him.

The five sat in silence, Azariah pacing in circles, never stopping. Her gray eyes stared unendingly at the carpet in front of her. She kept her arms folded and her eyes narrowed. Castiel watched her with a curious but confused expression on his face. She seemed so very human in those moments. There was something near anger pulsing in her steely gaze. Castiel knew that angels were generally emotionless, but Azariah and him had always been… too close to human for their comrades' comfort. It wasn't their fault. They were just… made that way.

Azariah suddenly stopped just beyond the table where the three were eating, freezing so completely she practically turned into a statue. Sam—who was facing her—scrunched his eyebrows and stared at her back. Powerful muscles were perfectly immobile beneath her form-fitting T-shirt. Like she was a rock. Dean—who had his back to her—turned around to see her better, still with his mouth full and chewing. Bobby leaned so he could see her past Dean's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked, his deep gravelly voice sounding immensely concerned. He pushed off from where he had been leaning against the wall.

Azariah stared, fixed and unblinking, at Castiel's deep blue eyes. "Now that Michael's in the cage, would the angels have to break the sixty-six seals to get him out?" she asked. Dean scrunched his eyebrows. Angels didn't have emotions, but was that fear he heard in her voice?

"Do you _want_ to get Michael out?" he asked. "Because I don't."

"No, I don't want him out. I'm just… wondering."

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. He lowered his voice and the two angels moved into the next room. "I mean, I pulled Sam out of the cage—albeit accidentally leaving his soul behind—but I don't know if we could free Michael without freeing Lucifer as well." Azariah pressed her lips together. "As a matter of interest, why do you ask?"

"Heaven is in the middle of a civil war. The only one who can keep Raphael under control is Michael. It was just a thought. A bad one, admittedly, but a thought."

Castiel smiled sadly and sighed. "You never cease to amaze me, Aza. Your mind works in ways I will never be able to comprehend."

Azariah threw her head back and chuckled. "It's because I'm the youngest. I'm just different."

"You're an interesting different," Castiel complimented as they strode back into the kitchen so the others wouldn't wonder what they were talking about or why they had left in the first place. Neither of them were in the mood to answer questions. "It makes you… what's the word for it… it makes you adorable."

Azariah's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Cas," she warned. "I may be young, but I'm a warrior—a soldier—I don't do _adorable."_ A flash of lightning projected shadows of her wings threateningly onto the wall behind her. She knew that Castiel was a Seraph—a higher class of angel than her—and therefore much stronger than her, but when she was angry (or really irritated) she could put up a decent fight and hold her own against him _and_ his powers.

But her brother just sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "I meant it as a compliment, not an insult, Aza."

"_Aza?"_ Dean asked, sarcasm lacing his voice. "_That's _your nickname?" Already narrowed gray eyes turned into tiny slits. Azariah fingered temptingly with the blade hidden up her sleeve. Her jaw clenched and her fists curled.

"I suggest not provoking her," Castiel remarked. "She could probably win me in a hand-to-hand fight." Before anyone could say anything else, the youngest angel disappeared. Castiel sighed again. "I'll go talk to her." He paused. "Just so you know, she's been the same way for five thousand years." Putting his hands in his pockets, he vanished with the sound of wing beats.

* * *

Azariah was in a field somewhere that was definitely not South Dakota, staring at the mountainous horizon. "Next time you want to elude me, don't come to Utah," Castiel remarked, appearing behind her. "You like this place far too much." A tiny, sad smile barely tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Who said I was trying to elude you, Cas?" she retorted quietly. "And there's no such thing as liking a place too much. The mountains are a beautiful creation."

Castiel didn't respond for several long minutes. He just stared at the long brown hair that fluttered in the light breeze. Finally he took a deep breath. "Here," he started. Azariah turned around to look him directly in the eye. "I want to show you something." He slowly lifted two fingers from his right hand to her forehead. For a moment she leaned away—the last time he'd done that he'd _actually _put her to sleep—but then she relaxed and let his warm fingers touch her skin.

* * *

_ "Cas, Cas, Cas!" A small child's hand held his with a surprisingly strong grip. He beamed and looked down at her as they strolled through the garden of someone's Heaven. "What are we going to do now?" Bluer than blue eyes looked down on the small child. A little girl who didn't look much more than four human years old. She had thick but soft brown hair and eyes the color of clouds before a storm. Silver wings that looked goofy and tiny trailed in the grass behind her. Castiel held his own black feathers tight to his back. The girl was a little uncoordinated and had already stepped on his outer primaries three or four times._

_ "How about I teach you how to become one of us?"_

_ "You mean… how to fight?" the girl asked gleefully._

_ Castiel chuckled. "Yes, Aza. How to fight."_

_ "Yay!" The tiny silver pinions lashed at the air as the small girl did a happy little dance, prancing around like learning how to fight was being told she was a princess in hiding and was going back to be royalty for the rest of her life._

_ "Isn't she a little young for that?" a new voice commented. The two angels turned around to see a tall woman with blood-red hair standing there smirking._

_ "Never too young to learn!" the little girl boasted proudly, puffing up her wings as much as she could. "Cas taught me that! Right?" She turned to the taller man with expectancy waiting in her pale gray eyes. He smiled and patted the top of her head._

_ "Yes. That's right." He looked up at the woman. "I've been teaching her all sorts of things all day Anna. And why do you care? Everyone usually takes such little interest in Azariah."_

_ Anna shrugged. "I don't care, really. But Zachariah wants to talk to you."_

_ Castiel knelt down so he was on Azariah's eye level. "I'll be right back. Go sit on that bench until I return okay?" he asked. Innocent eyes blinked and a small head nodded. "That's a good girl. Who's my favorite little sister?" The child giggled. Castiel planted a kiss on her forehead and gave her a gentle push towards the stone garden bench. She ran and hoisted herself onto it, sitting patiently and kicking her legs since they didn't quite reach the ground._

_ "Why do you care so much about her?" Anna asked as the older angels turned and began to walk away. Castiel shrugged, sending his feathers whispering through the air._

_ "No one else cares for her. She needs someone to be there for her."_

_ "Most of the younger generations are assigned to older ones to be trained," Anna pointed out._

_ "She was never assigned."_

_ "Then how come it had to be you to take care of her?"_

_ "Remember what Samandriel said? About too much heart being my problem?" Castiel retorted. Anna raised her red eyebrows, smirked, and nodded. "That's why. I care about her because everyone else is too busy. And she has to learn to be a warrior somehow." There was a satisfied smile on his face. He didn't usually get smug with Anna because she was his superior, but he felt good about what he was doing with Aza._

* * *

Azariah pulled away from Castiel's fingers. "I forgot about that," she murmured. "I remember that day, waiting on the bench for you for _hours_ it felt like. But I forgot what you told me about your conversation with Anna. Why did you remind me?"

"Mostly to calm you down," Castiel replied with a trace of humor in his voice. "I'll tell Dean I'm the only one that can call you Aza. But then I have to return to Heaven."

"I'll come with you," Azariah offered. Castiel shook his head.

"You're safer if you stay here."

"What, you don't want to see if all of your amazing training paid off?" she joked.

"I have seen your training pay off in a thousand different ways over the past five thousand years. But I don't want to see you killed in this conflict. I'm not sure what it would do to me," Castiel admitted. Azariah tilted her head to the side with a sad smile and cradled the side of his face with her hand and looked him right in the eye.

"There's the light in that darkness I was looking for," she murmured. After a moment she pulled him into a strong hug. "Who's my favorite big brother?"

* * *

**End Note: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I just sort of ****_had_**** to make it kind of cute. I love the thought of angels when they're young. I imagine child angels being closer to human.**

**To "Guest": I will definitely be continuing it! I'm glad you love it! To "I-got-zapped": First, hilarious username. Second, I'm ****_really_**** glad you liked it! I like exploring relationships too. And to be honest, I'm a little tired of "shipping" characters, so I made Azariah and Castiel's relationship different. I made them more family-like. To "lucacat4": Happy you like it! I'm glad you find it interesting. I'm trying to make it so! :-D**

**Love y'all! Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: So, I wasn't planning on updating today, but it's Croatoan Day. For those of you who don't know, in Season 5, Dean gets sent forward in time to August 1st, 2014. Which, if you're behind on the times, is today. So Supernatural fans (hunters? Wayward Sons? what are we even called?) are supposed to write "Croatoan" on their forearm in support of the Winchesters stopping the Apocalypse. It was a thing started on Tumblr or Facebook or something. Hope you like the new chapter!**

* * *

"They've been gone for _ages!"_ Dean moaned, shoving another chip into his mouth. "Didn't Cas say they were coming right back?"

"Uhm… technically no," Sam replied carefully. "He just said he'd go talk to her."

Dean sighed right as Castiel came back in, Azariah quite obviously missing. "Where have you been?" the older Winchester demanded.

"I have to return to Heaven," the angel said instead of answering. "If Azariah comes back please watch over her and call me. I've told her to stay out of the civil war, and she actually agreed. It's more than I could hope for." He paused, turning so he could disappear. "Oh! And don't call her Aza. I'm the only one she lets call her that. So unless you want to be turned into a pancake…" He didn't finish his sentence and vanished.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Real helpful that one is," he muttered.

Sam bounced his eyebrows for a moment but didn't say anything. Bobby instead decided to offer up some wisdom. "That Cas has come at your every beck-and-call since you met him. He _has_ been extremely helpful. Cut him some slack. He _is_ fighting a war. More'n that, he's _leading_ a war."

Dean shrugged, stood up, went to the fridge and pulled out a can of soda. Before Sam could even ask why he hadn't gone for the alcohol, he explained, "Alcohol, my nerdy little brother, is a depressant, and it makes one sleepy. I am looking at a long night here, and I want to stay awake. And that means sugar." Sam shrugged like _whatever_ and popped another salsa-laden tortilla chip in his mouth. Lightning flashed outside the window.

And the power shut off.

"Oh you have got to be _kidding me!"_ Dean exclaimed.

"Keep your hair on boy," Bobby snapped. "It's just a power outage, not the friggin' _Apocalypse_."

"No, 'cause that was _last year's_ problem," the older Winchester retorted sarcastically. Sam rolled his hazel eyes to the ceiling in exasperation, but decided not to say anything in order to avoid an argument that could turn violent. Dean was irked and neither Sam nor Bobby wanted to prod at him any further. Bobby was looking just as irritated as Dean was, but he didn't say anything.

* * *

Azariah paced back and forth across the field. She wasn't cut off from Heaven like Castiel had been the year before, but at the moment, she felt like she was. She'd steer clear—for Cas—but she didn't have to like it. Orders from him she always obeyed without question. He'd taught her everything she knew (except for a couple things she'd learned from Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna, and Samandriel), and she trusted his judgment. _However_, on the other hand, Castiel had been darker and more clouded since the war started. And she knew that some of his choices were wrong. Orders from those choices she knew she wouldn't follow if they ever came. She was emotional for an angel, but still her judgment was pretty clear, and she knew when Castiel's choice was the wrong one.

She let her angel blade fall into her hand from her sleeve. Knowing there was no surveillance, she began to practice old moves Cas had taught her that day so long ago, and so many other times since. Slash, twist, block, duck, jab. The more she practiced, the faster she got. Subconsciously she knew she didn't need to worry about her wings, but she could still feel the muscles in her back trying to keep them out of her way. Foot, elbow, fist, knee. Had she been in the war upstairs, she knew how to use her wings to fight too. Another trick Castiel had taught her when she was young.

She sparred with nothing for _hours_. Until the mountain peaks began to glow with a reddish-pink tint from the rising sun. The first rays pierced the sky; she blinked at the sudden light and glanced down at Rachel's watch. _6:15 AM._ She sighed and shoved her knife into her sleeve.

She teleported to Bobby's living room. Dean was on the couch, sleeping, and Sam was sitting behind the desk with his head down—also sleeping. From upstairs she could hear Bobby snoring. Pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead, she read what Castiel had told them before going back home; about calling him if she showed up and taking care of her. She removed her fingers and teleported to the top of the Empire State Building in New York. There was no one there. If there had been, she would have frightened the living daylights out of them.

She sat down next to the chain-link fence that kept people from plummeting to their deaths and looked out at the city skyline. She had seen it before, of course, in some people's paradises, but it was nothing like the real thing. For one memories didn't smell as funny. For two, the real thing had a lot more wind than people seemed to remember in paradise.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" a new voice asked. She whirled around. Her brown hair whipped her face, licking at the corners of her eyes. Standing there was a man several inches taller than her, but nowhere near as tall as Sam, Dean, or even Cas. He had stubble, black hair, and hazel-brown eyes.

A small smirk pulled up the corners of her lips. "Hello Crowley. I swear I didn't expect to see you here, of all places," she greeted.

"Thought any more about my offer?"

"What, to join you in your kingdom as your little princess?" Azariah retorted sarcastically. "No thank you very much." She placed one finger on the point of her blade, considering stabbing the annoying demon right in the heart. "Or was it the other one where you could free me from Heaven's grip but I get to keep all my powers?"

"You're much stronger than one of your comrades. He broke after I talked to him for five minutes."

"You said _he._ I'm pretty sure you weren't offering him to join you and be your princess." She snorted. "And in any event, remember I don't have a _soul, _nimrod? So the deal's off." She smirked wider. "I guess it was never on in the first place though." The humor lighting up her gray eyes snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane, replaced by cold, dark danger. "Now _get out of my sight_ before I run you through." Crowley's eyebrows lifted.

"Your Cas couldn't do that. I'm crafty. What makes you think you could?"

"Castiel was the one who trained me the _most_, but he wasn't the only one. I learned from many angels. I'm 'crafty' too. Do you really want to test me?" Crowley looked her dead in the eye and saw their narrowed, but unveiled threat.

He vanished.

"Moron," Azariah muttered to herself.

* * *

**End Note: I find Azariah's character to be interesting, don't you? She's certainly got an element of sass. By the way, I have very mixed feelings about Crowley. Sometimes I love him, and other times I hate him, and yet other times I love to hate him. Anyone else feel the same way?**

**To "allietheepic7": OH MY GOSH! THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH! You totally captured what I'm trying to get across here that not every relationship has to be romantic! I'm glad you like the brother-sister thing. It's based largely on my relationship with my dad because I don't have any brothers, but I'm trying to make it cute without making it romantic! And thank you for saying it stands out - I just kind of figured it would be white noise with _another_ OFC (Original Female Character) in another story. But I... kind of couldn't help myself and I needed to make Azariah for my SuperWhoLock fic I'm writing later. THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THAT MEANT TO ME!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**

**PS, Misha Collins's scavenger hunt GISHWHES is starting tomorrow! Anyone participating? (I'm not, but I'm being the photographer for my two best friends who are.) Tell me how it is!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: So, wasn't planning on posting until GISHWHES was over because I figured a ton of SPN fans would be doing it and thus wouldn't have time to read, but it's a Sunday evening and I'm still trying to give this story a start so when I start posting later chapters once a week people have more to read. So I hope you enjoy. I'm a titch busy myself so no review responses in the End Note today, but I love you guys and appreciate that you took the time to read this!**

* * *

"Dean! Call Castiel!" Sam called up the stairs.

"I'm in the shower! What's wrong?" Dean retorted. Sam sighed and caught the tottering angel by her upper arms.

"Azariah's back! She's weak!" Sam snapped.

"Am I… where am… what's going…?" Azariah mumbled, her voice not much more than a whisper. "Cas… why does my head…?" Blood was covering her face and hands. Sam lowered her onto Bobby's leather couch and grabbed a towel. He started to mop the gore off of her. "Sam?" He nodded fervently, more smearing blood over her face than getting it off.

"Yeah. It's me. What happened?" he asked. "Dean! Call Cas! Now!"

The older Winchester came down the stairs with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He closed his eyes. "Cas? We need you. Azariah showed up again, covered in blood. So if you've got a second, I'd suggest you get your backside down here."

The young angel couldn't keep herself upright. She was leaning heavily against Sam. Lucky her Vessel was a pipsqueak so it wasn't too difficult.

Wing beats. "Aza?" Castiel's voice almost sounded panicked. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Cas?" she murmured. Her drooping gray eyes caught sight of the bottom hem of his trench coat and a painful smile lit up her teeth. "Who's my favorite older brother?" Castiel knelt so he could see her lolling head. Both his hands reached up and gently but firmly cradled her face between them, completely disregarding the blood.

"What happened baby?" he asked. Dean shot Sam a look like _Baby?_ The younger brother rolled his eyes. Dean smirked and went back up the stairs to get dressed or finish showering or something. "Azariah? Who did this to you?"

"Don't know," Azariah got out.

"Can't you heal her? Can't she heal herself?" Sam whispered to Castiel. "Dean stabbed you right in the heart and you were fine."

"These wounds were inflicted by something more powerful than a demon-killing knife in an angel. It looks like cuts from an angel blade. Those we can't heal. The only way she can get better _quickly_ is to touch someone's soul; siphon some of its energy." Castiel paused. "Of course, she'll heal faster than I would anyway. Angels are all about energy, and the young always have the most. You knew that though. You've seen your youth run around for hours without slowing down. Angels are similar. I just hope she can remember who did this to her." Castiel's hand dropped from her face and clenched into a fist. "I should have seen this coming!" He pounded his fist into his knee with enough force to break Jimmy's patella (but nothing happened). "The one angel I _truly_ care about more than all others getting attacked! If this was done by one of Raphael's followers I will—"

"Cas," a small voice interrupted. Azariah's weak hand rested on her brother's forearm. "Enough. Please." The older angel's vehement rage fizzled out.

"Sorry, Aza. Get some rest." He helped Sam lie her down on the couch. After properly wiping all the blood off her face and hands, he pulled a knit wool blanket up to her shoulders. The girl exhaled one deep breath, and was fast asleep.

"I thought angels didn't sleep," Sam commented.

Castiel, looking worried, angry, and tired shook his head. "We don't. Unless we're so beaten our 'batteries' die and we have to let everything 'idle' to 'recharge' them." The angel began to roll his blade between his fingers, watching Azariah so intensely his eyes were practically glowing. She looked heavily bruised and damaged, but peaceful in sleep.

Dean came clomping back down the stairs in his boots, saw Azariah was sleeping, and took the rest of his path to the refrigerator on tiptoe. "Sorry," he mouthed to Castiel and Sam.

"You don't have to be quiet," Castiel commented. "She'd sleep through the Apocalypse at this point." Dean raised his eyebrows and pulled a brown, glass bottle out of the fridge. He popped the top off and took a long swallow.

"Well, good thing we averted that. I'd hate for her to miss such a show," Dean muttered sarcastically. Castiel rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. "Why do you have your angel blade out?"

"I'm concerned," the angel answered shortly. Sam shrugged and mumbled something about finding Bobby and tracking down a book. He left the room, leaving the hunter and the two angels alone. Azariah shuffled in her sleep. Castiel's jaw clenched as her head fell to one side and revealed all the bruises and cuts.

"So… what could have done that to her?" Dean asked.

"As far as I know only an angel can beat another angel into unconsciousness."

"But… she was awake when she got here."

"I know. But in coming here she weakened herself. Remember when we went back to stop Anna from killing your parents and I nearly killed myself?"

"Yeah…" Dean edged carefully.

"It's like that. Using our powers taxes our strength, but usually it's so minimal we can't feel it. However, when we're already weak…" Castiel didn't finish his sentence. He didn't need to. Dean picked up on the angel's meaning.

Dean decided to ask another question. "Why do you care for her so much?"

"For the same reason you care for Sam. She's my younger sibling and I practically raised her."

"Really?"

"Yes. I taught her how to fight, how to handle a blade. None of the other angels ever seemed to care that she existed." Castiel paused so a tiny grin could tug at the corners of his mouth. "One of the angels always says that 'too much heart' is my problem. That I care too deeply. I think he's right, but someone had to care for her. No one else was going to do it, and I don't mind that it was me. Everyone needs someone. Even angels." Castiel bent over and pressed his hand to his head.

"Angel radio?" Dean asked, more than a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes. I must return to Heaven. Call me when she wakes up. I'm sorry." Castiel kissed Azariah's bruised and cut forehead and vanished with a rush of feathers.

* * *

**End Note: Intense right? So, I found out watching Season 9 that angels can heal other angels, but I didn't know that back when I wrote this (when I was in Season 6), so I'm not changing it. You never see angels healing other angels in Season 6 anyway, and that's when this story is based. So sorry for the inconsistency with later seasons.**

**Thanks for reading though!**

**~Cass**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: So, I hope everyone had a happy GISHWHES. It's kind of like a holiday for people to do weird things isn't it? Then again, I guess ComicCon kind of is too.**

**Guess what? Somehow in about three weeks, I managed to write fifty-five pages of this story, and I still have no clue how to end it or where to end it. So this is going to be a pretty long story. Wow. It really got away from me. Or I lost track of... everything. I guess I got carried away with myself. But I hope you guys like it anyway. Please, if you liked it leave me a review. They always make me happy. Constructive criticism hurts, but everyone needs it to get better right? So I guess even if you hated it and don't like Azariah you ought to tell me too. Ultimately I might ignore your review because Azariah needs to be the way she is for my SuperWhoLock, but I will still take your opinion into consideration for making her character develop later.**

* * *

_"You're nothing more than a pathetic child!" the voice snapped. Azariah knew she was dreaming—it was a great advantage to be an angel—and was fighting to wake up. She knew that if she did it would hurt, and she wouldn't heal like she normally could, but she couldn't stay asleep with the faceless angel with the blade that was hacking away at her._

_ "I'm stronger than you believe," she retorted, her teeth grinding together._

_ "Why? Why are you stronger?"_

_ "Because I believe I am! Because Castiel trained me! It seems like whatever side he's on wins. Or at least gets another year before something worse comes along." She broke out of the bonds holding her to the chair and lashed out. One of her silver wings looped around her back and shoved the angel towards her. The man was tall and powerful. His skin was a dark shade of chocolaty brown. Azariah reeled back and almost fell over. "No! You're dead! Anna killed you!" The angel smirked._

_ "Guess again little girl," Uriel purred. Azariah narrowed her eyes. "Now, let's see if Castiel's training paid off, eh?" He twirled his blade over his fingers and held it in a reverse-grip._

_ "Let's see," Azariah agreed. She snapped her wings behind her and held them tight to her back._

_ The youngest and Uriel circled each other, gray and brown eyes glaring. Uriel had the distinct advantage of thousands more years of experience—and also a blade. But Azariah had more self-confidence. She was about sixty-five-percent sure she could beat him. She'd just wait for him to make the first move. _Okay, let's dance,_ she thought, flipping her hair off her shoulder. Castiel would be devastated if she didn't wake up. She _had_ to wake up._

_ With a battle cry, Uriel launched himself at her with a push of his wings giving him some extra momentum. Azariah ducked under his sailing form and spun around so she was facing him. A large fist was already moving towards her. She blocked it and attempted her own jab to his abdomen. He moved to slash her hand with his blade, but she managed to avoid it was just a nick on her skin._

_ Before she could block, he got both his hands on her shoulders and threw her across the dark room, toppling the chair she'd been bound to as well. She stood up and grabbed the lapels of his coat, shoving him against the wall. Using one hand to hold him to it, she used the other to wrestle his blade from his other hand. When she had it she stabbed him through the stomach until the point buried itself into the tile behind. Blood dripped down. She backed away as white light exploded from the angel. Wings burned into the white ceramic on either side. Azariah fell over, shocked and almost exhausted._

_ "Come on, Aza!" she snapped at herself. "Wake up! You can't just lie there uselessly!"_

_ She shut her eyes and started to concentrate on waking up._ Come on, come on,_ she thought._

* * *

"Sam! Dean! She's waking up!" Bobby called. Two sets of boots started coming from the corners of the house. Sam came from upstairs, Dean from the panic room. The brothers and their surrogate father watched as the youngest angel's tortured face contorted as she struggled to break out of the dream-world she was trapped in. Lightning flashed, projecting her wings onto the carpet like she was dead—for a brief moment. Her angel blade slid out of her sleeve and clattered to the ground.

Without even a sound, her gray eyes opened and she sat up. As her face had twisted and squeezed in an attempt to wake, her scabbed wounds opened, sending blood oozing down her face. "What'd I miss?" Her tone was nonchalant, like she had bumped her head for a moment.

"How was your dream?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Troubling. But nothing I couldn't handle," she answered. "Where's Cas?"

"He had to go back to Heaven. He told us to call as soon as you wake up," Sam offered. Azariah shook her head.

"Don't call him yet. I have to go check something. Please."

"Yeah, sure. But do you have the strength? I mean, Cas said you'd be weak for a while unless you siphoned off energy from a human soul," Dean pointed out. Gingerly, and looking like she was in pain, she got off the sofa and cracked her back—and neck. Taking a deep breath, she turned and looked at him. Her gray gaze locked on his green one and didn't move.

"I'll be fine. I'm younger than Cas. I have more energy. Trust me. If I come back weak, then maybe I'll need some of that soul-energy. But there's something really important I can't tell Cas about. Please. I'll be back in an hour. Cas doesn't need to know right now."

"Okay. Just be careful," Sam said.

Azariah chuckled. "Now you're starting to _sound_ like Cas."

She disappeared with a fluttering of feathers. Dean bit his lip in thought for a moment. "She's weird," he decided.

"How so?" Bobby asked.

"She reminds me of Cas. It's disconcerting."

Bobby snorted and went into the kitchen as one of the phones rang. "Willis, FBI," he greeted. "Yes, I sent him. Why? Is he being an idjit?" Dean and Sam exchanged amused glances. Sounded like Rufus had gotten himself into a bit of a pickle.

* * *

Azariah looked around the old, abandoned building. She snuck through on her feet, not wanting the sound of her wings to alert anything inside.

After nearly ten minutes of moving incredibly slowly, she made it to the second floor. Opening an old, creaky metal door, she was greeted by a six-point star covered in chains, and white chalk on the ground in an Old Enochian Devil's Trap. There was a tiny, maybe one-inch, gap in the outside circle. Breaking the trap. There was also a large hole in one wall, and a square wooden pillar broken almost directly in half. Small, dried, brown flecks of blood littered the floor. Angel-on-angel violence. But near—and even covering part of—the Devil's Trap was what she'd come to see.

Burned into the ground on either side of a foot-and-a-half gap were wings about twelve feet long each. There was no body. Of course there wasn't. It had been nearly three years since Uriel had been corrupted and killed. _Then why was he in my dream?_

"Azariah? What are you doing here?" a deep, gravelly voice asked.

* * *

**End Note: That was a lot longer of an Author's Note than I usually write (except at the beginning of my very first fic "Under a Violet Sky")(Avengers fans if you're looking for something to read feel free to check it and its sequel out :-D). But I guess I just needed to say it. I haven't gotten very many reviews on this story, but the ones I have received make me feel like I'm doing something right.**

**And can I just say that members of the Supernatural fandom have some of the coolest usernames? They're awesome. I log onto my email and someone new has followed or favorited this story, and I just have to smile at the "abnosome" (GISHWHES reference anyone?) name they have. You guys are freaking amazing!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**

**PS, no review responses right now, sorry, 'cause my computer is wigging out, but I'll try to give you a PM reply later okay? I still completely appreciate the time you take to write me a review on this story. I'm trying to make it "review-worthy."**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Sorry guys, I have no time for review responses because I have to get caught up on an online class I've been SPECTACULAR at putting off almost all summer, so when I get the chance, I'll try and PM last chapter's reviewers. It may take a while, but please don't think I didn't read your reviews. I did, and I loved them! They make me so happy, please keep reviewing! Hopefully I'll have more time to update next week so I can do review responses then. I still love you guys!**

* * *

"Hello Castiel," Azariah greeted without turning around.

"Why did you come here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she retorted.

"I came because it's quiet and sometimes I need to get away and think," Castiel said.

"I came because while I was out I had a dream that Uriel was torturing me. I had to come see for myself again that he was really dead. It was so vivid I had to doubt." She turned and looked her brother directly in the eye. Even his true form had the bottomless blue irises that Jimmy had. She could see his real face under the Vessel. Being Castiel's _true_ Vessel, the two looked remarkably similar. "It was terrifying, Cas."

The older angel gathered her into a powerful hug. "I'm sorry." He paused for a moment. "Why are you covered in blood again?"

"My scabs reopened." She shrugged like it didn't matter. Castiel held her tighter. One of his hands was on her shoulder blade. He scrunched his eyebrows as his fingers felt something on Rachel's skin. He held Azariah out at arm length.

"What's on her back?"

"Her?"

"Your Vessel. There's something on her back," Castiel explained. Azariah turned so her back was to him and lifted her shirt. There was a tank top under it, but enough of her back was exposed that he could see her shoulder blades. "Scars. Two of them. Right… here." He traced his pointer fingers down parallel scars over the bones. "They look like… wings were cut off."

"Strange," Azariah remarked.

* * *

"What the—?!" Dean exclaimed as the two angels appeared right in front of him as he was pacing, bashing into Azariah. "Don't do that!"

The younger angel didn't seem to know how to react after she pushed the hunter off of her. "You're angry. Why are you angry?" Her voice was confused.

"I'm not… angry. I'm surprised," Dean retorted, holding his emotions on a leash.

"Ah. Alright then. Anyway, Cas and I have been talking—"

"That doesn't sound good," Dean interrupted.

"Shut up I'm not done," Azariah snapped. Dean actually reeled back at the spitting tone of her voice. "We were talking. While I was out I had a dream that Uriel was still alive and was torturing me because apparently I'm a 'pathetic child.' I don't know if you know this, but I don't like to be called a 'pathetic child.' But Cas doesn't want me to go back to Heaven because of the war. And obviously, given the state I showed up in back before I fell asleep—however long ago _that _was—I can't be out in the world. Whoever jumped me was either an angel or an extremely powerful demon with an angel blade."

"You were out for three days, by the way," Dean put in as she paused to take a breath so she could keep talking. "And how does one 'jump' an angel?"

"Right," she started up again, completely ignoring his question. Castiel moved over to the sofa and sat down. He'd known Aza for five thousand years. He knew she could talk so long she could dissuade a hurricane from touching land. Not always saying she _did_, but she _could._ "Anyway. If I'm not allowed to go back home, and I'm not allowed to wander the Earth, then obviously I need to go somewhere safe. We considered the old garrison headquarters since they aren't being used during the war—you know the garrison that Cas and I were a part of that watched over the Earth, which is actually really boring—but angels can still access it and we don't need them looking for me."

"Look, if you're asking if you can stay here," Dean interrupted again, unable to take her energetic babbling. "You can."

"That wasn't what we were planning, but that's actually a good idea," Azariah commented.

"And what were you planning?"

"Well, Crowley's been making me this offer for _years_ about going and being his… _princess_."

"No!" Dean snapped. "You're not going to the Pit to be Crowley's _princess!"_

"You know he's been making me this offer for years right?"

"I figured it would have been something like that. But you're not going to do it!" Dean paused to pull his surge of anger back to more manageable levels. "Look, Azariah, I know that we don't know each other well, and you probably know Crowley better than I do, but he is a lying, manipulative son-of-a-gun and I won't let my best friend's little sister go frolicking off into the flames of his kingdom with him. So I'm sorry, but you're staying here."

Azariah turned and looked at Castiel with a very pensive, contemplative look on her face. But there was a tilt in her eyebrows, like she was asking for his permission to stay with the Winchesters and Bobby. Her older brother gave her an almost imperceptible nod and a blink of his blue eyes. She turned back to Dean. "Okay then. I've always wanted to have a human slumber party."

* * *

**End Note: What did you think? I hope you enjoyed it guys! Sorry it was a little shorter than usual!**

**Thank you so much for reading this!**

**~Cass**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Oh my gosh. I know I haven't updated this in a while, and I desperately wanted to, but here's the skinny: My computer was wigging-out all last week, and it turned out I had some sort of virus or computer, so I had to have my computer-genius cousin fix it for me. I was without my computer for a week. I wished I'd updated before it had to be clean, but here's a new chapter now, so please don't hate me. I didn't update sooner because of circumstances somewhat out of my control.**

* * *

"So, I'm assuming you don't sleep either," Bobby remarked as he came down the stairs.

Azariah nodded. "You're assuming correctly."

Castiel put his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. When she turned around he pulled her into a powerful embrace. "I have to return. I'm getting a signal from Calzas that I'm needed," he said in her ear, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Okay. I love you Cas," she murmured. Her arms dropped and he disappeared. She turned back to Bobby. "I promise I won't be a bother. I don't eat, sleep, or need anything. Except maybe a towel to get some of this blood off my face." She still hadn't cleaned up since her scabs had reopened while she was trying to wake up from her strange angel-sleep.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle to himself. She was so insanely angelic, but at the same time insanely human. She reminded him—in that way—of Cas. The dork didn't understand ninety-percent of Dean's pop-culture references, but at the same time just acted like a human.

Bobby flung an old rag at her. It was tattered but clean. Until she wiped blood all over it.

After only a few swipes the blood was gone. Her face was completely spotless. "That's much better. Thank you." She placed the rag down on the kitchen table. It was clean again.

* * *

One in the morning. Nothing to do. Bobby, Sam, and Dean were all sleeping. Azariah was watching over them. But it was insanely boring. She'd spent the last five thousand years in Castiel's old garrison that watched over the Earth. And she thought _that_ was dull. Human wars appeared petty to her. They rarely engaged in physical combat—just shot little bits of metal at each other and launched large squid-shaped missiles or dropped bombs. To the humans those seemed like such important things in warfare. If only they knew about their divine counterparts that could rip the planet apart in a single fight.

Sitting at the kitchen table, with her now-bare feet up on it, she contemplated what she'd observed from humans her entire life. When Castiel wasn't teaching her everything she could learn they would sometimes watch the Earth a little farther away from the others. Cas would point out things to her that he saw as beautiful. A golden butterfly landing on a little white flower, waves as they washed onto the shore, trees stirring like the ocean in a powerful wind.

She missed that.

She'd spent her whole life in that garrison. She was rarely even in Heaven. Being so far from home meant she had to latch onto something that gave her comfort when she needed it. Cas had been that for her—a constant, something warm—even after he rebelled.

So she didn't really mind being away from home again while the war was on. She was hardly there anyway for five thousand years. No wonder none of the angels really cared about her. They didn't know her. Even so, the angels in the garrison didn't really pay her much attention either. So perhaps it was something about being the youngest that put them off. She was different.

Either way she was used to being cut off from the others of her kind, so it didn't bother her that she hadn't seen another one besides Cas in months.

Idly, as the clock nearby ticked the seconds away, she dropped her angel blade out of her sleeve and spun it between her fingers. When she got bored she often found herself practicing combat. Moves Castiel had taught her when she was the angel-equivalent of a child, jabs and twists Gabriel had taught her when she was a little older, and one or two things she'd learned from watching the humans and their many different martial arts types. Cas had taught her most of them, but still she learned from watching. And as the little silver blade flashed in the lightning, she cast her mind back on all the fond memories she had of chasing her older brother through a field of someone's Heaven, laughing and trying to take a slash at him with a human knife that wouldn't hurt either of them. She was just a child, giggling, silver goofy-looking wings trailing behind her as she ran to try and catch him. He would pretend to trip and then they'd laugh as she would actually trip over his ankle.

It had been years since she'd heard Castiel laugh that hard. She missed it. If they both got out of the civil war alive, she was going to find a way to make him laugh—genuinely and deeply—again. Her gray eyes closed as her memories turned to them with the garrison. He was off talking with Hester about something, and she was all alone.

She was trying to pick out things _she_ believed to be beautiful. A storm out in the middle of the sea, huge waves churning under lightning, thunder, and rain; a brand-new baby crying for the first time; fireworks exploding over the heads of wondrous people. She'd always managed to find something to entertain her over the millennia of tedium. As boring as humanity was, their planet was beautiful. Fields of wheat swaying, looking like rolling waves, lush green forests teeming with life. It hurt her heart that so many humans didn't appreciate nature. She wasn't a "hippie" per se, but millions lived in concrete structures and never went out to appreciate the wondrous designs of a spider's web, or look at the early-morning dew on the grass.

One fifteen in the morning. The clock seemed to tick louder the more she sat in silence. The thunder and rain were beginning to get irritating. Azariah figured it had something to do with Raphael being angry. He seemed to create a lot of storms as his temper increased.

Finally, bored of staring at just her knife and the same four walls, she stood up and began to read one of the many books. It was written in Latin. Azariah shrugged. That was no problem. She would have preferred Enochian, but Latin wasn't too difficult, and neither was English. The elegant calligraphy was another thing Azariah found to be beautiful on the Earth.

"Interesting," she breathed, trying not to wake Dean—who was asleep on the sofa in the next room. "I've heard so many demon exorcisms, but I've never heard the exorcism that banishes an angel from their Vessel." She pressed her finger to the page and began to memorize the words. She hoped never to use it, but if she ever needed to get rid of an angel in a hurry… or even as a last resort, knowing the angel exorcism could be useful. When she saw Cas next she'd have to tell him about it.

* * *

**End Note: I don't remember if I did review responses last time, but I don't think I did. I'm sorry, but I don't really have time to do them this chapter either. School started again. I'm so, so, so terribly sorry.**

**Thanks! Hope you liked!**

**~Cass**

**PS, Please give me some feedback if you have anything to say!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Okay, so I had a reviewer ask if Aza is going to be paired with anyone or if her relationships were strictly friends/family. Personally, I think there's too much romance on this website (and I've participated myself, trust me), and so I'm keeping her the way she is: Castiel's sister, and the Winchester's friend.**

_HOWEVER!_** I am willing to write a little AU side-story of a romance outside of my SuperWhoLock universe with her and someone if people would like to read it. If you're interested, feel free to zap me a PM or leave a review. It probably won't be a romance with Cas because she's his sister and that would just be awkward. So it'll probably be Dean. Much as I love Sam, I think Aza and Dean would be better as a couple. They're kind of alike. They both need a few attitude adjustments. Anyway, **_please_** let me know what you think so I know whether or not I ought to write a little Aza romance.**

* * *

Dean woke up at about seven in the morning. He felt sore all over, but more rested than he had in a long time. Sitting up, he glanced into the kitchen. Azariah was sitting at the table, feet bare, reading one of Bobby's huge leather-bound books. The title was written in Latin. Her gray eyes slid over the text like it was normal English for her. Aside from her gaze, she looked like she hadn't moved all night.

When she saw he was awake, she gave him a smile. "Did you know that there's an exorcism to banish angels from their Vessels?" she asked as he walked by to the coffee maker.

"How on Earth did you find that in one of Bobby's books?" Dean grunted.

Azariah shrugged. "Well, you were never really looking for it. And it's just like a demon one, except the words are slightly different. It's really simple, but really obscure." She went back to looking at the page she was on. Dean shrugged and downed a whole mug of coffee in one swallow. "How was your sleep?" There was a _chink_ noise of ceramic on wood as the coffee mug was placed on the table.

"Really?" Dean asked sarcastically. "You want to 'mom' me?"

"I was just asking a question. If you don't enjoy conversation then I'll happily desist."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Just… no one's asked me how I slept since I was dying."

"Ah. Which time?" A small mischievous smirk lit up her lips as Azariah turned a page in her book. Dean shot her a glance. He'd seen that look on another angel. An archangel in fact. Gabriel. The year before, a few months before he died, when he trapped the brothers in TV Land.

"One of the first times," Dean decided to answer. "The Impala got hit by a truck and I was beaten up anyway so I went into a coma. My dad… traded his soul to a demon to bring me back."

"It's amazing what human parents will do for their children isn't it?" Azariah remarked, turning the book so it was upside down. Dean scrunched his eyebrows until he peered over her shoulder and saw that a section of the calligraphy was written so the book had to be turned. "Die, lie, even kill to protect. It's truly a testament to the amazingness of human nature. What really sets you apart."

"Thanks," Dean muttered, not really sure how to respond to her.

"You're very welcome."

_Clomp, clomp, clomp._ Sam's combat boots came down the stairs, tumbling. The taller brother came after them, socked feet much quieter. "Morning," he greeted. Dean raised his coffee mug and Azariah gave him a smile before turning back to her book. Sam pulled his boots on and sat down next to the young angel to tie them. "So, what's on the agenda for today Dean?" Sam stood up, straightened his plaid shirt, and turned to his brother with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"So far? Nothing. It looks like we've got a day off," the older Winchester replied.

"Oh. Nice," Sam remarked. He turned to look at Azariah. "Anything you want to do?"

A level, steady gray gaze turned up at him. "You're… asking me?" she wondered, sounding confused. Sam nodded fervently.

"Yeah. Do you want to play a card game, or chess, or Monopoly?"

"Um… no, no, and no," Azariah replied. "Because I've been playing all of those since they were created. I'm afraid you'd lose—miserably—and I don't think your brother or yourself would appreciate that very much. So I'll have to pass."

"Twister?" Dean suggested.

"If you're trying to turn that into some sort of dirty implication I _will_ rip out your optic nerves and strangle you with them," Azariah commented, bringing the book up over her face.

"I was not!" Dean protested indignantly. "It's a game! I'm bored! I haven't had a case in _days_!"

Azariah's dark eyebrows arched over the top of her book. "You sound like a child."

Sam snorted into the glass of milk he had just taken a drink from. Dean shot him a glare, and Azariah kept a placid, almost deadpan, expression on her face. Her eyes went back to sliding over the old dead language and a tiny grin tilted up the corners of her mouth.

* * *

_Knock knock!_ Azariah hadn't moved in… four hours. She'd been reading. As her eyes lifted to the clock, another rapping came from the door. Dean glanced out the peephole and opened it. "Sheriff Mills! Good to see you!" he exclaimed. There came two sets of steps and a woman came into Azariah's range of vision. She had short dark hair, was pale, and tall.

"And who's this?" she asked, tilting her head toward the angel.

"A friend's little sister. She's staying with us for protection," Dean supplied quickly.

"Protection from what?" Sheriff Mills asked.

"Nothing major," Azariah put in. "Just a bit of a family feud." Technically she wasn't lying.

Sheriff Mills stepped forward and put her hand out. "Sheriff Jody Mills. Nice to meet you." Azariah grinned, took the sheriff's hand, and shook it with her extremely powerful celestial grip.

"Azariah. Pleasure's all mine. Love meeting new people."

"That's quite the handshake you got there."

"Very kind of you."

Dean leaned down and whispered, "You're _great_ at pretending to be human."

Azariah beamed. "Thanks. I'll give you some time alone to… chat." She snapped her book shut and moved to stand up. Dean bent down so his lips brushed her ear.

"Don't _zap_ anywhere. Most of mankind is still in the dark about angels. We're saving it for later. _Walk_ down to the panic room or upstairs." He sounded sincere. Azariah—being great at pretending to be human apparently—hadn't planned on "zapping" anywhere anyway. She knew from watching humanity for thousands of years what they were and weren't capable of doing. So she pulled her shirt down from where it had bunched up and went striding gracefully from the room, silent until her Vessel's boots hit the stairs down to the panic room.

From time to time as she sat on the chair in the center of the Devil's Trap, she could hear Sam, Bobby, Dean, and Sheriff Mills laughing. She knew they were talking about hunting stuff, but she decided to go with some random story that she didn't know what hunting was. The sheriff didn't know anything about her—didn't even know she was a powerful angel.

* * *

"Bored," Azariah moaned, banging her head on the table. The officer and the hunters had been talking for several hours upstairs, and Azariah had already read the book she brought down with her. Twice. It was easy. "Human existence is boring and confining." She pounded her forehead with the leather cover of the book and set it on the table. She'd moved out of the panic room and into the general basement.

"Yes," a new British voice agreed. "That's the second time you've said that I believe."

Azariah whirled around, her braid whipping from one shoulder to the next. When she saw who it was she relaxed, a smirk twisting her mouth. "Hello Crowley. Never thought I'd see you here." The demon straightened his tie importantly.

"Well, never thought I was coming back." He grinned. "Think fast."

_BANG!_

Azariah crumpled to a heap on the floor, blood oozing from her hairline down her face where the frying pan made contact.

* * *

**End Note: Well, crud. I personally think Crowley with a frying pan in the show would be hilarious. Would anyone like me to write that little romance?**

**To "DaughterofNeptune313": I'm so glad you like their relationship. I wanted so much to create something different from the slash and romance stuff I've seen on this site. Thank you for reviewing, it means a lot to me. To "GoldenKeeper2567": Oh. My. Goodness. Thank you for the review. Right now I'm keeping her relationship completely platonic, but as I said, I'm totally willing to write a side-story with a pairing. I'm so honored that you're hooked on this story. I try to make it worth reading.**

**Thanks all for reading, follow/favorite/review please! They make me happy!**

**~Cass**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: I had a REALLY great time writing this chapter. I'm going to do PM review responses later, so they're not in the end note. I have a TON of math homework tonight, so expect it later. Love you guys! Have a great Tuesday! Slightly shorter than usual, but hopefully not noticeable. :-)**

* * *

The sound of some poor soul screaming woke Azariah up. She was lying under gold silk sheets. Feeling them against her skin, she was pretty sure she wasn't wearing anything more than her Vessel's tank top and shorts. Looking around, dazed and confused, she plucked at the covers and sat up, keeping the sheets pulled up to her shoulders. Wherever she was, it was warm. Not the pleasant kind of warm, but more the sickening kind. The door didn't have a lock, and something was making her forehead sweat. Her fingers touched it. Thread-like wire braided into a circlet that was placed gently on her head. Pulling it off, she examined it.

One strand was gold, the next silver, and the last a smoky, glowing white. The latter looked like it had been woven from an angel's Grace. She placed it on the ebony nightstand next to the bed she was lying in. It clinked against something. In the feeble light the white strand offered, she could see her angel blade sitting contentedly, hilt towards her.

Her Vessel's clothing was nowhere in sight. The only thing in the room she could wear was a silver nightgown draped over the top of her covers. Keeping the sheets pulled up over her chest, she slipped it over her head. It was thin and light—probably made for the fact that it was unpleasantly warm.

She slid out of the sheets and grabbed her blade. It was smaller than the others' knives because her Vessel wouldn't be able to hold it up her sleeve and still bend her elbow. Azariah didn't mind though. She actually enjoyed having the smallest blade. Then she could see the surprise on her opponents' faces—and in their eyes—when she got close enough to end them. There was always a small, sadistic part of her that got satisfaction from seeing that surprise. Cas wouldn't approve of that part of her, but it was always there and she figured it would never go away.

There were no shoes—not even slippers—to wear on her feet, so she padded to the door barefoot. She missed Rachel's boots. They were comfortable and capable. Heck, she missed Rachel's normal clothing. She liked the T-shirt, jacket, and cargo pants. Azariah didn't like dresses, but she was making do with the hand she was dealt.

Hand on the doorknob, she remembered what happened before she was knocked out. Exasperated and disappointed in herself, she rolled her eyes.

She was in the Pit. Crowley had dragged her downstairs.

"Well, Dean's going to have a heyday when I get back," she muttered to herself sarcastically.

She twisted the doorknob and opened the heavy door. Of course, being a multidimensional celestial being, the door wasn't actually that heavy for her. She'd lifted a "1 Ton" truck off a poor man who'd been crushed under it once several years back.

There was no one on the other side of the threshold. She hadn't expected there would be. Crowley would be expecting her to make her own way to him. Looking down the long, dark corridor that was lined with torches, she knew she could. She could smell him—or rather, the alcohol he preferred. It filled her nose and made her want to gag. She didn't like the thought of alcohol—too much of it could impair even an angel's judgment. A certain incident with her brother drinking an entire liquor store about two years back came to mind. He was remarkably coherent, but still she did not condone the drink.

She put one foot on the other side of the threshold and began her slow walk down the hall to the room with the black door that had light glowing from under it. Her blade was clenched so tightly in her hand her knuckles were turning white.

As she snuck down the corridor, she remembered the last time she'd descended into the Earth. Castiel had been by her side, but slightly in front, smiting with one hand and stabbing another demon with the other hand. Fighting through the Pit for months—to the demons in Hades, _years_—in an attempt to retrieve Dean Winchester's soul before he could break the first Seal. They'd failed, of course. She remembered that last stretch. Almost all the others had fallen behind keeping the demons at bay, besides herself, Castiel, Uriel, and Balthazar. She remembered the powerful demon Alistair jumping her, grabbing her wing, and holding her in a headlock. Castiel cast a worried glance at her. _"Go!"_ she'd shouted. Balthazar and Uriel finished off their demons and helped release her while her favorite brother went on without them. Alistair had gotten away, but Dean had been rescued.

Her fingers gingerly touched the door handle to the door she was _sure_ Crowley was in, waiting for her. It wasn't hot. For some reason, she'd been expecting it to be hot.

The door opened before she could twist the handle. No one had opened it. She smirked. Telekinesis wasn't exactly uncommon among supernatural beings. In the room a fire was burning almost merrily in the hearth, and two high-backed armchairs were facing it. In that moment she was happy she was in a Vessel, as she assumed the other chair was meant for her and in her true form her wings would get in the way. The armchair with its back to her was the one that was occupied.

"Hello Princess," Crowley greeted.

* * *

**End Note: That was too much fun to write.**

**Thanks for reading! Please leave a review! They mean so much to me!**

**~Cass**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I know I haven't posted anything on this in a while, but I've been very distracted. I can't say "busy" because that's not exactly true, but I'm easily distracted and that's what I've been. I hope you can forgive me. If it's any consolation, I have a new chapter for you.**

* * *

"I've been wondering when you were going to wake," the King of Hades continued.

"Well, maybe next time don't use a frying pan," Azariah retorted.

"You would never have come willingly." Crowley stood up from his chair and turned to face her. "Sit. It's more comfortable." Azariah's gray eyes narrowed, danger and caution glimmering in them. "Oh come on. I'm not going to maim, poison, or do anything to you in any way. That would be very counter-productive and get a very powerful angel very angry with me."

"What are you talking about? All the powerful angels don't care that I even exist," Azariah retorted.

"Castiel is a powerful Seraph, is he not?" Crowley asked. "Higher caste of angel, stronger than the average foot soldier such as yourself. One of the last, as a matter of fact. Only made into a Seraph after his dear big brother imploded him and his daddy put him back together, right?" Azariah didn't say anything. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. You are a tough one. I'm not going to hurt you because I need to be on good terms with Castiel."

"What are you talking about?"

"He and I have an arrangement. And you're part of the 'not-to-be-hurt' bit," Crowley said. He lifted up his glass of amber liquid. "Would you like a drink? Seems rude not to offer you one."

"I don't condone alcohol," Azariah remarked, her voice blank and her eyes impassive.

"No, you don't." He gestured to the seat next to him. "Have a seat princess."

"Why did you bring me here?" Azariah asked, moving and sitting down, looking Crowley coolly in the eye. He resumed his seat and took a swallow from his very ornate crystal glass. His dark eyes watched her as she glared levelly at him.

"It's all part of keeping you safe from the little skirmish going on upstairs."

"Don't make a Heavenly _civil war_ sound light and unimportant you son-of-a-witch!" Azariah spat. "And I can keep myself safe from them!"

Crowley raised his eyebrows, like he was reconsidering his wish to make her his princess. For being an emotionless robot of a soldier, she certainly was feisty. She definitely displayed more emotions than most of her kin—with the exception of Gabriel and Castiel of course. "You need quite the attitude-adjustment, don't you think?" he finally remarked.

"Yeah, I probably do, no thanks to idiots like you who make the life I'm trying to live harder than it needs to be," she snapped.

Luckily Crowley was smart and knew that he was getting nowhere with her, so he changed the topic. "Would you like something to eat or drink? Not alcohol of course. Perhaps some lemonade?" he offered. Azariah's level gray gaze didn't move as she shook her head.

"No. Thanks. It all just tastes like molecules, so what's the point?"

"When was the last time you were here? Hmm? Two years ago?"

"About three, actually," she corrected. "I was part of the garrison incursion that laid siege to rescue Dean's soul. I almost did it too, except Alistair caught me in a headlock so Castiel made the home stretch alone since the other two angels with us stayed behind to free me." She shrugged. "It was actually quite fascinating. Lot of… facets to this place. Little nooks and crannies and places to hide." She wanted to finish her little monologue with _I didn't know demons were that cowardly_, but even though she was protected by Cas for some reason, she didn't really want to tick Crowley off.

* * *

"Has _anyone_ seen Azariah? I _really_ don't want Cas to slaughter us when he comes back and we can't find her," Dean asked Sam and Bobby as he opened the door into a closet and peered in, looking for the baby angel—who would insist she wasn't a baby if she caught him thinking that.

Sam glanced up from the computer screen and shrugged. "Haven't seen her in… several hours. Since before Jody came."

"She went downstairs so she could give us some privacy. I heard a loud bang and when I went down, she was gone, and the book she'd been reading earlier was on the table. As was a dent that looked like she'd been hitting her forehead on it pretty hard," Bobby offered from his desk where he was sifting through some papers. Dean sighed in irritation and clenched his jaw.

"Great. So we lost the baby angel and she didn't even leave through the front door. We promised Cas we would protect her!"

"No, actually, you didn't," a new voice commented from behind. "You simply said she could stay here." Dean whirled around to see Castiel leaned against the kitchen counter casually, hands resting on the edges. He almost had an amused look on his face. "And it's okay. You didn't lose her. I had an associate of mine take her somewhere even safer than here. So don't worry." Dean raised his eyebrows at the "safer than here" bit.

"Do you think we can't protect her?" He sounded slightly indignant.

Castiel shook his head. "No. I know you can protect her, but where she is now, no angel will go there. Especially not while the civil war is going on."

"Where is it?" Sam asked.

"An old angel outpost that hasn't been used in millennia. Most of my kind has forgotten it exists. Even if some do remember, it's so out-of-the-way they would see no point in going there. It's purely metaphysical." Castiel gave them a reassuring nod. "So don't worry about her. She'll be fine. Safe. I could never let any harm come to her anyway if I could avoid it."

"Let me guess," Dean started. "You still see her as a baby with goofy, fledgling wings."

Castiel almost smiled. "How'd you guess?" He sounded genuinely curious, not sarcastic.

"I know how older brothers think," Dean replied. Sam smirked behind him, wondering sarcastically if Dean still saw him as a baby with goofy fledgling wings. He sure hoped not. He was twenty-eight. He wasn't the kid who had to get back to school for a law school interview anymore.

"Well, yes. I do still see her as a child," Castiel confirmed. "I also see her as a soldier, but she's…"

"Young?" Dean suggested.

"Yes."

* * *

**End Note: AAWW! I think Cas and Aza's relationship is so cute! Let me know what you thought! (Jeez that sounds like one of my teachers. Ugh!)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Hello. I don't know when the last time I posted was, so whatever. Here's a new one. Can I mention again that the Supernatural fandom has the most interesting usernames? I mean, much more interesting than the Avenger fandom usernames.**

* * *

Azariah rolled her eyes. She was back in that bedchamber she'd started in, but this time there were her clothes, sitting on an armchair, folded and cleaned. Crowley left and shut the door behind him.

The angel threw the annoying silver silk nightgown off and let it crumple into a heap on the floor. She yanked her normal, comfortable clothing on and relaxed, feeling their soft familiarity against her skin. She was very fond of the outfit Rachel had chosen before allowing herself to be possessed by an angel; much in the same way Castiel was very fond of the outfit his Vessel had donned before the angel entered.

When she went out of the room, blade tucked up her sleeve, cargo pants tucked into her boots, jacket unzipped, she felt so much more like herself she was ready to take a slash at Crowley and _get out_. "You know your Cas wanted me to bring you here right?" the king asked from behind her, setting the circlet of braided silver, gold, and "angel Grace" on her head. Remembering his annoying habit of teleporting, she didn't move, guessing he'd come around.

"I had my suspicions, yes," she replied. "But I'll have you know I have no intention of staying here. I don't belong here anymore than a goat belongs at a banquet table."

"Did you… did you just quote a Marvel movie?" Crowley asked, sounding both incredulous and amused at the same time. "I thought angels were a little behind on pop-culture." He circled around her and leaned up against the wall of the corridor.

Azariah smirked. "You know the young humans always understand pop-culture better than the old right?" she asked.

"Of course."

"The same goes for the angels. I'm the _youngest_. I understand it the best. Castiel often doesn't get it at all. And I enjoy Marvel movies," she explained. Crowley lifted his eyebrows, like he was impressed by her. "Either way, it's true. I'm not going to stay. I don't like it here, I don't belong here, and I don't exactly have pleasant memories of being here—given the last time I was in a battle so intense I almost died." She shrugged and began to walk down the corridor. At the moment she was terribly grateful she wasn't human. She didn't want to eat food from the Pit. Ugh!

"You have to stay here."

"Or Cas will kill you?"

"In all likelihood… yes."

"Then. Good. Riddance," Azariah spat. She teleported away from him.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You can't leave the Pit, darling!" he called after her. "The entrances and exits are currently warded against angels!" He had no clue if she could hear him, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that she could. Very tricky that little girl was.

* * *

Closing her eyes, Azariah stood at one of the exits. She could sense the warding sigils even before she reached her destination. When she got there, they were invisible to the tortured souls that passed by, but she could see them, clear and plain as day, glowing white on black walls. Irked that her preferred exit was blocked, she decided to take a different route. A route that Crowley—hopefully—didn't know about. Because as she'd said: she had no intention of staying.

Glancing over her shoulder, she disappeared.

She reappeared in an old nook she'd seen when she'd come with Castiel in their attempt to get Dean's soul back. It was hidden from most everything down there. But it also hid an exit. Not the preferred exit, but an exit.

With a blast of her superhuman strength, she shoved the rock out of her way. It opened a long, dark, cold corridor that led directly to Purgatory. She smirked.

"So long Crowley," she muttered. She crossed the threshold and heaved the stone doorway back into place. She didn't care that Cas had asked Crowley to keep her in Hades for her own safety. She didn't care that Cas was likely to be very extremely ticked off at her when she resurfaced. She didn't care that now Crowley was also going to be ticked because she left.

Heck, she didn't care that she didn't care.

Creeping along down the corridor, she needed to be cautious. There was nothing in the black stone tunnel that led between Purgatory and Crowley's domain by way of souls or monsters, but there _were _potholes that she couldn't see. Even the glimmer of the white strand on her new circlet couldn't illuminate the total blackness that surrounded her. Normally the darkness didn't bother an angel—as they had excellent night vision—but it was so absolute that even she couldn't see anything. She had to feel her way down the tunnel with her feet and keep her arms in front of her so she didn't walk into a wall or a stalactite. Stalagmites were less of a problem.

Finally, after what felt like _hours_ of feeling the cold stone encroach in on her, Azariah's fingers brushed a wall. The tunnel was a complete dead end. Wall to wall with no gaps. There were no more turnings or anything. She'd made it.

Another powerful shove and the wall crumbled. She spilled onto the other side and reclosed the gateway. When she turned around, she sighed. There it was. Purgatory.

Now, all she'd have to do was find her way to the angel portal and never tell Cas she'd gotten out through there. He'd probably have a fit and be so angry they'd start to fight. And fighting him was the last thing she wanted to do. Sure she could probably best him if she was angry enough, but she wanted to avoid it. She loved him and didn't want him to be angry with her. Well, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The angel portal was a way out that not even the souls in Purgatory knew about. Some of them knew about the human portal, but fewer about the angel one. It was well-hidden in a small niche no one would ever even think twice about looking in. And it only reacted to angels. Since the last one to visit was thousands of years before, all likelihood was only the leviathans knew about it. And they wouldn't guard it. Why should they? Sure if they caught wind that she was there they'd be all over her, but she had every intention of making her presence go unnoticed. She could still fly and teleport after all.

It only took a half hour for her to find it—deep in a corner of the underworld and hidden behind a waterfall—and for it to accept her with nothing barring her way. She stepped into the violet vortex and let it bear her away, back topside.

It spat her out in Washington, somewhere several miles outside of Olympia. She tumbled over the ground for a moment before regaining her bearings and standing up. Brushing off her pants and the front of her jacket, she smiled with content satisfaction. "Right. Time to get back to Sam and Dean," she told herself.

* * *

**End Note: And that, my friends, was another chapter.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Cass**


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